The Wizard of Awe
by OfTheFlamingHeart
Summary: When an unscheduled layover delays Thomas, Joan and Talyn’s trip back home, Thomas volunteers to stay at the airport. When he wakes up, he finds himself in a strange, familiar, magical, musical land.
1. Prologue: Kansas

Thomas took a look into the soft-sided carrier and sighed at the low growl that Spinner made. Looking around the terminal, the hustle and bustle of folks coming and going was probably what was setting the four-legged, smelly fur-ball off. He tried making a few noises to distract Spinner from what he could hear but couldn't see. When that only elicited a short silence before the growl started again, Thomas sighed and looked for Joan and Talyn. They'd gone to see if any of the terminal stores were open.

"Attention passengers. The flight to Jacksonville, Florida has been cancelled due to weather conditions. Please consult your gate agent for alternate accommodations." Thomas sighed at the announcement. Their flight was a mess from the start; a mechanical failure forced their airplane to make an unscheduled stop in Kansas, of all places.

He spotted them, Joan holding a plastic bag and Talyn carrying a water bottle in each hand and under one arm. Thomas lost sight of them for a bit as an inbound flight deplaned at a gate between him and them. The noise and movement of the herd of people made Thomas tug the brim of his snapback cap down to cover his eyes. He stuck his fingers into the door of Spinner's cage and tried to focus just on the dog nosing at his digits.

"You look like you need something. Too busy in here?" Joan asked. Thomas nearly jumped, he hadn't heard them approach.

Nodding, Thomas looked up and around to the nearest restroom. "I'm also really worried I'll miss that appointment tomorrow. The more immediate concern, well, I've got to go. That last flight was too bumpy and I've been holding it since we left."

"No problem. You want Joan to go with you?" Talyn asked.

Thomas thought about it, but shook his head. "I'll be fine. It's just right over there. I'll be back in a minute."

Thomas took care of the necessity and quickly exited the crowded restroom. On the way, he passed a gentleman sitting on a bench. He initially didn't give the man much thought until he saw a familiar name on the man's luggage. Lovingly embossed on the front of the suitcase was the name: Dr. Picani, Magician, PhD.

Dr. Picani looked up at Thomas, who flushed with embarrassment at being caught staring. "Sorry, it's just, I do these videos on the internet with a character with that name."

"Ah! Then I am to understand you are that Sanders fellow?" Dr. Picani asked.

Thomas tilted his head. "Oh no, tell me you haven't watched them!"

The doctor smiled kindly. "Now, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. Those animated therapy videos are as entertaining as they are educating! And I've followed that Kati Morton since watching your videos and she is as knowledgeable and engaging as I could ever hope to see from someone in their trade. Now, speaking of which, I am a doctor, but as you can see, a physical one. Matters of the mind are interesting, but not my specialty."

"What do you specialize in? Wait, let me guess. A magician and a doctor. Hands?"

"As in sleight of hand? Oh, that's a good guess but no. I'm a pediatrician," Picani explained.

"A magician pediatrician?" Thomas asked, his lips curling upwards.

"And great at rhyming in addition!" Picani replied. Thomas laughed at the wordplay. "The magic tricks are great at distracting the children, and sometimes their parents as well! I started doing magic tricks in what the young folks today call a 'side-hustle.' It helped me through medical school. Financially and mentally."

"That's amazing!" Thomas said.

Picani's eyes twinkled as he smiled. "You look as if you could use a little cheering up. Why don't you ask Joan and Talyn to come over and I'll do a little bit of magic?"

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to trouble yourself! You're traveling too."

"Kind of you to consider my feelings as well, but I insist. Come now, introduce me to your non-binary pals, as I believe you would say?"

"Alright, if you insist. I'll be right back." Thomas quickly explained the striking coincidence to Talyn and Joan and all three went to see the good doctor.

"Wow, you weren't kidding about that name!" Joan said as they all returned, Spinner in tow.

"Sorry if you've ever had trouble because of us," Talyn said.

"Oh, piffle! My grand-daughter actually called me herself after the first of your 'Dr. Picani' bits. And I'd hardly heard from her since the Christmas before that! Now she's always telling me about your videos and how much you all do behind the scenes. Consider this a little reward for all the hard work you go through, not to mention all the trouble you're in now just trying to get home!"

"So what tricks have you got up those sleeves?" Thomas asked.

Dr. Picani rolled up his sleeves. "None whatsoever. As you can see, I have nothing up my sleeves. Now!" Here Picani opened his briefcase and pulled out an ornate silver hand mirror. It looked old enough to be an antique. "I had a dickens of a time convincing our Transportation Safety Administration that this item was as safe as a stuffed rabbit. But it is much too valuable to me to leave to chance in my checked luggage. I've seen bags thrown at great speeds and distances by those so called 'handlers.' But enough slagging off the working man, let me show you how this works."

Taking note of the rose pattern around the edge, Thomas's brain perked. "That's the mirror from Disney's Beauty and the Beast!"

"Very good observation, yes. You are quite correct, although this particular mirror picked up some extra magic from that most happiest of places upon this very earth," Picani explained.

"So you bought it at a Disneyworld shop?" Joan asked, deadpan. "It just looks older than it is."

Picani's eyes twinkled. "Actually this was a gift, but let me show you what it can do." Withdrawing a nail, Picani set the mirror between his knees. With one hand, he drove the point of the nail into the mirror. The nail dropped through the mirror, skittering away across the floor. Talyn chased it down and returned it as Joan and Thomas marveled at the still-intact mirror.

"Thank you, my dear pal, for retrieving that nail. Solid silver, so it is worth its weight in, well, silver." Pocketing the nail, Picani picked a pack of playing cards and shuffled them idly. "Talyn, why don't you pick a card?"

"Sure." Selecting a card, they held it for Thomas and Joan to see. The Jack of Cloves stared back innocently.

"Alright now put it back in, just the way you found it, there's a dear." Shuffling again, Picani looked at Joan. "Now, Joan my friend, why don't you choose which half of this deck I throw back in my pocket?"

Picani cut the deck and held half in either hand. After a moment, Joan picked Picani's right hand side. "Well, oof, as I believe the kids say now. Most folk, statistically speaking, choose the other hand. But you might have noticed that I tried to lead you to choose it and thus instinctively chose the other side. No! Don't worry, we will proceed. Perhaps I miscounted and this will all turn out alright."

Pocketing the indicated half of the deck, Picani turned to Thomas, shuffling the remainder of the deck. "Now, Thomas, would you be so kind as to choose a number between one and twenty-six?"

"Thirteen," Thomas said after a moment of deliberation.

"Ah, lucky number thirteen." Picani stopped shuffling and sorted through the first twelve, reaching number thirteen and placing it face down on his palm. Picking the mirror back up, Picani slapped the card onto the back of the mirror and held it up for them to see the Jack of Cloves just under the glass.

As they cheered, an announcement called Thomas to the gate agent desk and the trio bid Picani a quick farewell.

After checking his I.D., the agent had bad news. "Due to the weather, we won't be able to fly you out tonight. The airline is offering a stay at a hotel on us, but the only hotels we have don't allow animals. Someone will have to stay the night here with the animal, and fly out on our early morning flight. That flight only has one seat left, so the other two will take the next flight to your destination. Since none of you have a checked bag, this wouldn't cause more problems at your destination. Who will be staying?"

"Thomas, he's my dog, I should..." Joan started.

Thomas shook his head. "Normally I'd agree but I have that morning appointment. I need to be home first thing in the morning. I can take Spinner to your place and kennel him until you get home. Then go and take care of my appointment. Do you mind if I stay?"

"Well, of course I mind, but I guess that's the only way to handle this logically, aside from rescheduling your appointment."

"It's too late to call them tonight, and I don't think I'll have a chance at it in the morning." Thomas sighed. "And this appointment took months to book."

Joan handed Thomas the carrier. "You both better be in good condition when we get home."

"I promise, we will be," Thomas said, turning to the gate agent.

"Since this is an inconvenience, I'm glad to tell you that the last seat on this flight is in first class, so you've been upgraded at no charge. Your friends will be flying business class as they originally paid for. We have a cot in the lounge, there are also recliners. An agent will take you to your gate in the morning. The shuttle is waiting for your friends. They'll need to meet it when it first arrives at the hotel in the morning. Sorry again, I hope your travel gets better tomorrow!"

Bidding their goodbyes to the agent and Thomas, Joan and Talyn headed quickly to the shuttle pick up area. After taking Spinner to the pet area, Thomas made his way to the lounge. Thomas tried the cot, but ended up in a recliner. Spinner laid down in his lap and both quickly fell asleep, covered in the airline blanket. Thomas' last thoughts were of his strong need to wake up in the morning to go home.


	2. Chapter 1: Wicked

Thomas woke up to Spinner licking his face. Irritated, Thomas lifted his head up to avoid the dog's bad breath. He was vaguely aware of a nightmare about terrible turbulence and spotting a cartoonishly cackling witch outside of an airplane window, but he shook his head. It seemed so real, his heart was still throbbing from the strong terror it caused. Such a silly dream made no sense, though. Thomas knew better than to dwell on that unpleasantness. Wiping the slobber from his face, he made to stand up but something held him down. With a start, his hand grabbed the restraining item, and he recognized it as a lap-belt. He realized quickly he'd somehow gotten on the plane, although now it was quiet. Too quiet.

As Thomas unbuckled the seat-belt, he looked around. The plane seemed empty, thankfully nothing seemed too damaged. No odd smells; no heat or smoke. Exiting the door, Thomas realized the plane had buried itself so that the cabin door was at ground level. Spinner trotted out behind him and barked at the tall grass field around them. Glancing around, Thomas was stricken by a cliched thought.

"Uh, Spinner, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore," Thomas said as he took in the colorful sight around him.

Flowers of every description in full bloom. Green, grass-covered houses sized just right for a hobbit. A sparkling, burbling stream passing through the middle of a little village. By some miracle, the plane missed the village, touching down and coming to a rest just short of any buildings. The field they'd landed in had grass up to Thomas's stomach and it swayed gently, even though there was hardly a breeze. The plane cleared the grass around it, so there was a flat area as far as the wing where grass lay down.

As he stepped through the clearing, he could hear more than just the long blades rustling. It was just faintly intimidating, by the sound of it there were many people just out of sight. Spinner seemed content to trot at Thomas's heels. Thomas pushed at the grass, but no one could be seen.

He turned around and came face to face with a beautiful person. Their outfit was impossible; half fluffy golden dress and half impeccably tailored silver suit. Their face was split with amazing sparkly make-up on one side and a more subdued, natural handsomeness on the other, but in the middle both looks melded into each other. Even their lips became a gradient from bright red to a more natural brown. The non-binary fairy seemed to glow all over from within, as if their skin could only barely contain the magic within.

"Are you a good witch, or a wicked one?" They asked.

Thomas looked around. In spite of that lingering feeling of being watched from the grass, he was the only one in sight. "Who, me? I'm not a witch at all! I mean, Joan and Talyn brought a ouija board over once but I told them I wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole. I don't care if the ghost in my house wants to talk; I'm sure they'd have nothing nice to say!"

The magical being tapped a finger to their gradient colored lips. "You appear very much like a wicked one I know, but you act much differently. What kind of magic do you know?"

"Me?" Thomas asked. "I don't know much. I've never really trained. Though I know a few tricks. Nothing as good as even a birthday magician."

The surreal beauty arched a brow. "So you are self-taught? The academics in this land would certainly find that interesting, considering how powerful one must be to undo the Wicked Witch of the West. Normally I couldn't even set foot upon her land, but with that wicked one gone here I stand."

"Oh, no, don't tell me..." Thomas turned back around and ran back through the grass. Sure enough, sticking out from underneath the plane were two ruby-slipper-clad feet.

Turning back around, he came face to face with the good witch. "Glinda, I presume?" He asked.

The good witch smiled. "Sometimes. Glen or Glinda, either or both."

"How very progressive of my dreams," Thomas deadpanned as he tried not to think of the poor, likely dead, being behind him. "Look, I didn't kill..."

"Oh but you did," Glinda insisted. "You were caught in her storm; those Wicked Witches ride the barriers between worlds and often unsettle things. It is their way to disturb the natural order. In their storms, thought becomes intent which becomes power. Your thoughts were powerful enough to break her storm and crush her beneath your...intriguing-looking vehicle," Glen/Glinda waved her wand at the plane. "So, the question remains; are you a good witch or a bad witch?"

Thomas tried to wrap his head around the situation, but was still overwhelmed. Leaning against the side of the plane, he held a hand up to his forehead. "I'm good, honestly. I didn't think my thoughts would ever hurt another living being. Let alone kill, that's just unbearable. Are you sure she's dead?"

Glinda smiled, patting his shoulder kindly. "You are a sweet soul. Don't trouble yourself on her account. The Wicked Witch Valerie's power made those living here miserable, and brought you here against your will."

Thomas turned a horrified face to the protruding feet. His dream had made Val an evil witch? He was glad he could only see her feet! If he'd had to watch something horrible happen to such a dear, sweet, amazing friend, he'd have been even more upset.

Glen turned to address the tall grass. "You may all come out now, it's all right. He who set you free's a knight. A gentleman, a noble spirit, whom of your song would gladly hear it."

A chorus of voices called out in joy, the grass came alive with rustling before giving way to green-clad beings a good head shorter than the grass.

"Humble, hay! Hear what they said!

The Wicked Witch at last is dead.

Rumble, ho! And sing with glee,

The wicked one is gone, you see!"

As they sang, the little ones led Thomas to the village center. When the singing ones set foot on the road, musical accompaniment burst into the air, seeming to come from the road below them. The golden road glowed in time with their song as well. Thomas felt a warm giddiness well up inside him as he set his feet on the glowing bricks.

"The road at last glows bright certain,

The day has conquered night again

A powerful good knight, good man,

Has set us free, says Glinda/Glen!"

Glinda kept close to Thomas's side, smiling brightly at the shorter folk as they danced and sang on the glowing road. As they approached what seemed to be the biggest building in the village, a portly, jovial person stepped out and clapped his hands together.

The other voices faded as his baritone rang out.

"Our worries now have all gone past,

Our songs can once more ring at last

Our thanks to thee is deep and vast,

Name your wish, we'll bring to pass!"

The little mayor bowed, followed by the rest of the village so far around them.

"Well, actually. I have a hunch I might need those ruby slippers, the ones that the uh, unpleasant one was wearing." Thomas said, glancing back at the plane.

Glen laughed and tapped Thomas's shoulder. Pointing down, Glen instructed, "You've already got them!"

Thomas winced a bit. The slippers looked definitely feminine on the witch's feet. Looking down, he sighed as he saw the shoes transformed. They looked like bedazzled converse sneakers, now. "Well, then my second hunch is that these babies will take me home. So, you're all quite welcome, but what I'd most like is to be back home in Florida where the weirdest thing that could happen to me would have a smaller chance of being fatal. Well, by a little bit at least."

Closing his eyes and thinking of home, Thomas tapped his heels together three times and waited.

He reopened them to the same flowery sight as before. Glancing at Glinda/Glen, Thomas shrugged. "Okay, what did I forget?"

Glinda laughed and shook her head. "Well, if you tapped your heels and thought of home, I'd say the only thing you don't have is the proper perspective. You must have a deeply personal desire. And there's only one being strong enough to read the deepest, most personal desires of one's heart."

"The Wizard, right?" Thomas asked.

The Good Witch nodded. "You are strong indeed. The Wizard of Awe is the one you need."

"Oz?" Thomas asked, unsure he heard her correctly."

"Yes, Awe is," Glinda confirmed.

"Aww-iz?" Thomas asked

Glen nodded. "Correct, he is."

"The wiz is?"

"The wiz is!"

"The Wizard of Oz?" Thomas asked, confused by Glinda's pronunciation.

"The Wizard of Awe is!" Glen confirmed, tapping the wand impatiently against their trouser leg.

Thomas tilted his head. "It sounds like you're saying Aww-iz."

"I am saying Awe is!" Glinda said, stomping a high heeled foot.

"Not Oz?"

Glinda shrugged. "Awe is or Awe's. You can contract it if you want, in either case it means the same. Wonder, amazement, et cetera."

Thomas decided to test a theory. "This is the wonderful land of Oz, isn't it?"

Glinda laughed. "It is certainly a wonder-land, but not all this land belongs to The Wizard of Awe."

If anything, now he was more confused. "Wait, so this is wonderland? Is there a queen of hearts?" Thomas scratched his head.

Glinda shook their head. "None that I am aware of. The Wizard took his name from the former matrilineal Queens of Awe, unfortunately now extinct. This land's name is from the age of those Queens who ruled the whole continent. Though I don't believe any of those queens were known for wearing red. The name of this land is Awesome."

"That's cool. I'd like to hear it," Thomas said earnestly.

With a shrug, Glen looked more than a hit put out. "I just said it, man."

"Said what?" Thomas asked.

Glen answered, deadpan. "The land's name."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Awesome."

"Oz-sum? As in Oz summed up the name?"

"Awe does have some of this land, but he had nothing to do with the name. And why are you saying it like that?" Glen asked, bewildered.

"That's what you said!"

"I said it was Awesome. As in there is some awe. A-W-E!" Glen said, spelling it out and flashing the letters in the air with the wand.

"Oh AWE!" Thomas cried out, finally realizing what the matter was.

"Yes, awe!" Glen said, as the letters burst into sparkles.

Thomas chuckled to himself at the misunderstanding. "Third base!"

"Now what are you talking about?" Glinda asked, eyes suspicious.

Rather than explain it, Thomas waved a hand. "Not important. So, if things are a little different than the land I know, does the Wicked Witch of the East still exist?"

"Indeed I do," called out a low voice. Smoke billowed from the roof of the mayor's house. From within, a black and purple form emerged.

"Virgil?" Thomas asked, dumbfounded. "But I don't think of you as a villain!"

The Wicked Witch sneered, his plaid-patched elbows sticking out as he crossed his arms. "Well, I certainly don't care what you think of me! I am the Wicked Witch of the East, Elphonse! And I'm here to punish the fool who dared crush my sister to death!"

"Why would my dream name you...oh like Elphaba," Thomas said. "I swear if I see you flying around singing 'Defying Gravity'..."

"He's the fool," Glen said, pointing directly at Thomas.

"Glen!" Thomas protested.

A puff of purple smoke erupted in front of Thomas and Glen/Glinda. The good witch stepped between Thomas and the would-be assailant. "You are not amongst the tangled trees and swampy stumps of the East, Elphonse."

Elphonse stared daggers at Thomas. "You can't hide behind their sparkly shadow forever."

The sheer force of the hatred in Elphonse's eyes started Thomas into silence.

Elphonse turned to the good witch. "This sweet-scented flower flood sickens me. This land was better off in the hands of my sister, Val! Such technicolor fairytale land aesthetic offends every sense! That it reverted back so quickly upon Val's demise is sickening. These little people, that fool and his dog are all going to be in my hands soon enough. And the ruby slippers will be the first step to making that nightmare come true.

His hand erupted in flame and the wicked witch lobbed it straight towards the airplane. The little folk dove out of the line of fire as the grass field went up in flames. The field went up all at once and then subsided into ash. As the wicked witch marched through the embers, he came to a stop before turning around.

"Who has them! They're mine! Give them back right now, or I'll..."

"You will do nothing," Glen reminded him. "And if you dare to strike those standing upon the glowing golden road..."

Elphonse stomped his foot. "Don't think I don't know the magic of this world! You may think you're safe with those slippers and this wretched road, but just you watch. I'll have those slippers and the power of this land as well! And then you'll be at my mercy, and your little dog too!"

Smoke billowed again at the wicked witch's feet and he disappeared in a clash of flames and thunder.

"Wow, extra." Thomas remarked.

Glen nodded. "Even so, he is dangerous. In this world there are only four items that could save you. Those slippers, well, sneakers, are one. The mirror of the Wizard will help you home. The Amethyst City is the home of the Wizard of Awe. It lies south of here and to the east. As you draw nearer to the neutral territory, you must keep your feet on the golden road. It is a law of magic that those who stand upon it are safe from magical harm."

Thomas nodded. "Oh, so that's what you meant."

Glinda smiled and tapped the road with the wand. "One just has to sing a little song and the protection is invoked."

Thomas frowned. "But I haven't...you let Virg—Elphonse think that I was already protected."

"The people here sang for you. Although that protection they gave you extends only as far as the village limits. Beyond the gate, you must sing for yourself." Glen declared, pointing at the little wooden archway at the other side of the village square.

"So, I've got to sing. Anything?" Thomas asked.

"Yes, anything." Glinda said.

As the lyrics to his Ultimate Storytime song came to mind, he opened his mouth. To his surprise, a different song came out.

"With ruby shoes and heart alight

I set my feet to make things right

The golden road of Awe's in sight

With luck I'll be at home tonight."

As he sang, the bricks under his feet began to glow and accompanying music burst into the air. Spinner howled, his usually noisome bark oddly resonant in the music he heard in his head. He took his first steps, following the spiral pattern until he reached the wooden limit of the town. The glow followed his steps, bursting as each ruby clad foot touched the golden bricks. At the arch, he took one step and sang.

"These steps I'll take to find my way

To Amethyst, the Wizard's stay

A city bright, 'neath brighter ray

My hope, my home, to see today!"

The golden road glow spread down the path. Waving at the cheering little folk, Thomas looked to wave to Glinda/Glen, but only saw a retreating bubble. Waving anyway, Thomas turned around and started down the softly glowing road.


	3. Chapter 2: Straw Thoughts

By the time the sun shone at its apex above, Thomas came to a fork in the road. The only noise besides the occasional wind in the fields of corn was the musical sound of the golden road under his feet. Spinner followed at his own pace, staying close without having to be called but still exploring the sides of the road.

Thomas had to hope that Spinner didn't decide to hare off into the fields. The ruby slippers might save him, but the golden road was his main safety net.

Glancing around, the only thing besides seemingly endless corn stalks was a beaten up old scarecrow. Thomas felt a tingle in his mind, like the scarecrow might be important, but it seemed like the longer this dream went on, the less he felt like he could remember anything from the world he came from. His glance yielded nothing new and so Thomas sat with his back to the fork in the road. No signs, no farms, nobody. Thomas wished it wasn't a dream so he could talk to the sides of his personality. Then again, he wondered if he couldn't.

"Roman?" Thomas called, hoping the prince would pop up from the ground.

"Patton?" He tried next, although the fatherly figure didn't appear.

"Logan?" Thomas tried, hoping for some logical advice.

"You know, I've heard of guessing games, but in my uneducated opinion, trying to guess my name is a game you could easily avoid by just asking," a voice called out.

Thomas jumped up in alarm and turned to look down the left hand path. "Who?"

"Me," said the voice.

Turning to look down the right hand path, Thomas even stood on his toes to look over the corn nearby. Nobody was around. "Show yourself!"

"Well aren't we pushy? And, why, I couldn't show myself off any more obviously than if I was the nose on your face," the voice teased.

Thomas turned to look the way he came. "Seriously, I don't want to play any games. I'm just looking to find my way to the Amethyst City so the Wizard can send me home."

The voice sighed. "Oh the Wizard? I wouldn't know much about him, except of course which path to take to get to Amethyst. But I didn't learn that, I heard it from some travelers the last time folks passed through."

Wheeling around, Thomas could've sworn the voice was behind him. But the old worn scarecrow was in the same position he'd been in, with the same blank expression. It didn't move, not even so much as to take a breath. It was the only thing around, though, so Thomas addressed the straw-man. "Well, the good witch Glinda/Glen said I had to find him. So if you would please, please point me the right way."

The Scarecrow lifted his head and smiled. "Well, since you asked nicely. But unfortunately, my arms have fallen quite asleep. Being up for the whole season has been quite the strain, even on straw. If you would please let me down, I'd gratefully point you towards the Amethyst City."

Thomas facepalmed. Of course the Scarecrow would be the one speaking. This one looked smaller than the full size adult he'd expected. Scarecrow's face was drawn on a mostly flat burlap sack. The T shaped frame he was tied to was also slightly tilted to the right. He stepped towards the Scarecrow, but realized as one foot touched dirt that he'd have to leave the golden road. Was the wicked witch watching, waiting? Thomas scanned the sky.

"You'll excuse me if I'm wrong, as I don't much have a brain. But it seems like you're worried. Maybe too worried to leave the road?" The Scarecrow asked.

Thomas nodded. "Yes, I'm sorry. But I promised I wouldn't. The Wicked Witch Elphonse is after the slippers, uh, sneakers that I have."

Scarecrow raised a drawn on eyebrow. "Well, then you must be important! I shouldn't be selfish. If you take the path to the right, you'll see Amethyst before night."

"Nice rhyme," Thomas said, eyes fixated as his brain tried to wrap itself around the idea of a scarecrow speaking when it didn't even have a mouth-hole.

"You'd best be on your way. I've heard it doesn't make sense to dawdle when you have an important thing to do," Scarecrow said kindly.

"Right. I'm really sorry, again. I'd like to help you, if only to repay you." Thomas contemplated the road at his feet. It wasn't far to the Scarecrow's wooden pole. Maybe if his was quick...

"If you don't know how to use those fancy shoes, you need to stay protected on the road. It's only, well, rational. Take the road to the right!" Scarecrow insisted.

Thomas looked to the right and stepped in that direction. The scarecrow cleared his throat. "Uh, sorry, silly-straw-headed me. I meant left."

"What? Are you messing with me?" Thomas asked as he turned to look at the Scarecrow again.

"No, see, I thought you knew I meant my right. Your left. So go left, alright?"

"Alright. Going right." Thomas started to the Scarecrow's left.

"Not that right. That right." The Scarecrow said, cheerily. Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, turned to face the way the Scarecrow faced and then looked down at his hands and headed to the right. "Right! Have a safe journey. Don't worry about me. I've been up here all season, a little longer won't kill me."

Thomas knew what he should do logically. It was only a dream after all. But his morality nagged him, metaphorically. He hadn't heard nor seen any of the Sides in their normal forms. Thomas turned back around. "Between you and me, we can figure this out. How can I stay on the road and still help you?"

The Scarecrow's shoulders twitched in a rough approximation of a shrug, given his lack of mobility. "You can't. Even if you use the loose bricks at the edge of the road to your right, you'd be taking an awful risk."

Thomas looked for the loose bricks on the path to the right. The Scarecrow coughed again. "Sorry, this time I meant your right."

"Are you trying to discourage me or not?" Thomas asked.

The Scarecrow flopped his head to one side. "I hardly know what I'm doing at the best of times. Please, do what you think you should."

Looking up to scowl for a moment, Thomas turned around again and found the four loose bricks. There was no mortar holding them together on the road. Experimentally, Thomas stepped on a loose brick and it still glowed. He pulled the brick out and set it down on the dirt on the side of the road. Stepping on it again, it glowed still.

Excited, Thomas brought the bricks out one by one and made his way to the Scarecrow. The bricks glowed and whistled lightly as he stepped across each one. Arriving at the Scarecrow's post, Thomas untied the poor thing and carried him back across the bricks. Once more on the golden road, he set the surprisingly light Scarecrow down.

Scarecrow was only a head shorter, but much skinnier than Thomas. Close up, he could see the Scarecrow's face resembled his own, only flatter. The Scarecrow squinted up at Thomas, then pulled a set of black rimmed glasses from his shirt pocket. "Ah, that's better. I didn't know straw arms could get so sore! And I much prefer the world in all its definition." Fitting the frames onto his face, Thomas idly wondered how they stayed up without a nose or ears to hold them.

"Patton?" Thomas asked, the familiar glasses giving him cause to suspect the Scarecrow's alter ego.

The Scarecrow smiled very slightly. "I'm not so blind that I need to go pattin' around, no." The Scarecrow patted Thomas's shoulder in a friendly way.

"Sorry, I thought I knew you," Thomas clarified.

"Ah, I told myself when I saw you that you looked like a thinker." The Scarecrow stretched his limbs experimentally.

Thomas noted the worn, patchy overalls and faded blue and black button-up flannel shirt. "So, what is your name?"

Scarecrow shook his head, which to Thomas's perturbance made a slight cracking noise. He half-expected the Scarecrow to be in pain or at least to have his head fall off, but the Scarecrow only sighed in relief. "I don't have a name, nor a brain. I was cursed by the Wicked Witch Valerie because I refused to plant any more cursed corn."

Thomas glanced uneasily at the corn around them.

Scarecrow smirked. "Uh, it's not cursed anymore. But since I was stuck up there, I couldn't reap the bounty of Valerie's passing. I'm not sure why I'm still cursed. The crops aren't, yet here I am, still made of straw."

"Sorry, I have a friend with that same name, can we just call her the West Witch?" Thomas asked.

Scarecrow nodded. "I thought the name was unique, but maybe not where you're from, eh? I don't know much, though. And what I do know is just what I've heard. So maybe the name is more common, someplace away from here."

"I guess that's logical," Thomas agreed. "Well, if you couldn't harvest the bounty before, I think you can now."

"Well, I'd have to be careful not to accidentally harvest myself, looking like this. But yes, I could go back to farming," Scarecrow said.

Thomas shook his head at the Scarecrow missing his point. "No, I think you should come along and see the Wizard too. He could help you with your curse, I'm sure."

The Scarecrow set his finger on his lip and thought about it. Or at least, appeared to be thinking about it. "If I could think, I'm sure I'd agree and have something witty to add."

"Well, I think you're sensible, in your own way," Thomas replied.

The Scarecrow shrugged, tapping a foot on the brick road idly. "Oh well, but I do see that my feet aren't glowing. Do you know why that is?"

Thomas looked down at the Scarecrow's worn boots and sure enough, the golden road wasn't glowing under the newly freed Scarecrow. "Oh, yeah. Uh, know any songs?"

The Scarecrow scratched his baggy head. "I don't know. Suppose I could just make one up? I don't have any songs in my head, just straw."

Thomas nodded, thinking of his own experience with spontaneous lyricism. "I think it just, comes to you. Concentrate on the road keeping you safe until you reach your goal."

"My goal, hmm." Shrugging, he sang simply, almost mechanically.

"Where once I had a handsome face

A burlap sack is in its space

My brain has straw now in its place

And I could use the Wizard's grace."

From the way the Scarecrow danced as he sang, Thomas had a feeling the grace he mentioned had nothing to do with footwork.

"I'd have to say, quite practic'ly,

I need my brain, exactic'ly

With feet to road, climatically

I sing this song, didactically!"

The Scarecrow sang the verse while taking on the demeanor of an instructor in a lesson, a stalk of corn standing in for the part of a pointing wand.

"A mind's a thing I'd never waste

Facts, figures, memories encased

As once before my mind had raced

My cleverness would be replaced."

Scarecrow smiled with such self-satisfaction at that thought that Thomas recognized the side of his personality that his subconscious chose for this role. Assuming, of course, this was all a dream.

The Scarecrow reached out to Thomas and Thomas joined in as they linked arms.

"These steps we'll take to find our way

To Amethyst, the Wizard's stay

A city bright, 'neath brighter ray."

"My home," sang Thomas.

"My brain," Scarecrow added.

"To find today!" They finished together.


	4. Chapter 3: Test His Metal

The sun-drenched fields of corn gave way to a neatly-tended orchard. Apple trees lined the golden road on both sides, their boughs heavy with ripe, red fruit. Curiously, no fallen fruit could be seen either in the road nor on the ground around the roots. Spinner seemed to have no interest in the trees. Thomas was glad of that, it meant that Spinner wasn't likely to run off into the orchard.

"Isn't this a neat little orchard?" Scarecrow marveled aloud. "You're a thinking person, does it seem to you that there should be someone around who picks up the fallen apples?"

Thomas shrugged. "Maybe we just missed them? The trees seem well-tended." Reaching out, Thomas plucked an especially luscious-looking apple and jumped as the tree shouted in pain.

"Hey! That hurt, you thief!" The tree cried out.

Startled, Thomas dropped the fruit and stepped back, although the tree had just enough reach to slap his wrist with a thin whip-like branch. "Ow! Two wrongs don't make a right, you know!"

"And three rights make a left!" The Scarecrow added, unhelpfully.

The road flashed and a streak of gold struck the tree, slicing a heavy bough from the top. The tree cried out, but Thomas and the Scarecrow retreated. Even with the golden road's retribution, the tree was unrepentant. "How would you like it if I snapped off your hand? I was lenient, if anything! And this blasted magic road is the only thing keeping me from cutting your roots off!"

Thomas's hand flew to his hair as the Scarecrow's hands turned into fists. "Anything you do to us will come back at you seven times over! And that's only if it's minor harm. Why, I once saw a bird blown to smithereens before it could harm a squeaking mouse that ran down the road!"

The tree chucked an apple at the Scarecrow's head, but missed. A golden flash removed a smaller branch. "I didn't even hit you!" The tree cried.

"Intention is nine-tenths of the law!" The scarecrow replied smugly.

"I don't think that's how that saying goes," Thomas said, glancing between the Scarecrow and the antagonized tree. "Look, I'm sorry about taking the apple. Even if you were a normal tree, it would be rude to take without asking someone. We'll go, we're going right now."

A veritable hail of apples followed that pronouncement. This was followed by a wave of gold that left the tree rather worse for the wear, but not less wrathful.

"You fool of a tree!" A voice called out from behind them.

Whirling around, Thomas and Scarecrow were both stunned at the sight of a mechanical man ambling toward them. He walked stiffly, his hand holding tight to the head of an axe he used as a cane. The metal-man stopped and eyed the tree severely.

"Stay back, axe-lover!" The tree threatened.

"Peace, tree," The man said.

Scarecrow piped up. "Actually, that's an apple tree."

"He said peace, not peach," Thomas clarified.

"Oh."

The man spoke again. "I've felled my fair share of trees, though you'd be the first to talk back. Your branches won't hold fruit as long as you hold that grudge."

Angrily, the apple tree responded. "I don't stand alone, woodcutter!"

"Is that so? Seems like your brothers are awfully quiet. Perhaps they're normal trees? Or perhaps they're smarter? Only a great fool attacks those on the road."

The tree looked down at the road and smiled before it suddenly uprooted, its long roots boosting its height greatly. The root system split off into two 'legs' that the apple tree used to step towards the golden road. "You've not invoked the road's protection, Tin-man! I'll avenge myself and my speechless brothers by taking you apart to the last screw!"

Thomas looked down at the Tin-man's feet and saw that indeed, there was no glow. "Sing, Tin-man!"

The Tin-man shook his head and hefted his axe. Screaming, the tree charged the Tin-man, who took only two steps before leaping into the air as if on springs. As he landed, he split the apple tree in twain. The tree fell in two halves, the scream fading from the air, but not from Thomas's mind.

Thomas's knees buckled, and the Scarecrow steadied him. "Why-why didn't you just sing to get the road's protection? That tree didn't have to..."

"That tree didn't have to hit you, nor uproot and attack me. Those actions were not right." The Tin-man picked up a fallen apple and smelled it. "I would avoid this fruit. It's very sour. Not surprising, given where it came from. What a waste."

Stiffly, the Tin-man dragged the two halves of the tree to either side of the road to clear the way. Thomas found his voice again and waved off the Scarecrow. "Why didn't you sing?" The Tin-man looked away, his expression one of deep shame.

The Scarecrow stepped up and looked at the Tin-man. "Did you really have to kill it?"

Turning back, the Tin-man struck his axe-handle on the road. "Now listen here, you walking hay bale, and listen well. When it comes to your survival or the life of another thing, you are under no obligation to allow something else to kill you. And make no mistake, that's what the tree was after."

"Self defense." Thomas intoned, trying to look straight ahead to avoid glancing at the tree's split corpse. "I don't know that I could ever knowingly harm someone."

"Says the boy who killed Wicked Witch Valerie," the Tin-man replied grimly.

"How did you...?"

"The Witch of the North made a visit and sent me along as extra insurance. I'm to take you to the City of Amethyst. And I'll use any force necessary to do so." He struck the road with the bottom of his axe handle again.

"I'd just as soon not have you do that." Thomas folded his arms.

"I'd just as soon send this Tin-man home, Thomas." The Scarecrow said, folding his arms as well.

"I can't change what I am, straw-boy. But I know right from wrong and can respect Thomas's wishes. I will only ever harm those that seek to harm us first," Tin-man assured them.

"I think he should join us. Not as extra protection. I think he should see the Wizard as well and ask for a heart." Thomas turned to look at the Tin-man, who looked thoughtful. "Why didn't you sing?"

The Tin-man sighed, not deigning to turn around. "Because I have no heart. The magic of the road responds to the magic in someone's heart. Watch."

Tin-man sang, his voice unexpectedly soft and mournful.

"Won't you please respond to me?

The day is warm and bright.

I'd gladly take protection, see?

And walk within your light.

Won't you please take note of me?

One hates to stand apart.

I'd take your help respectfully,

Since evil took my heart.

Where once I sang a joyful tune,

My soul in soulful bliss

A sadly song I sadly croon

And I'm left now with this.

Won't you please acknowledge me?

I swear, faithful I'll be.

I'd act in honor, morally,

And safe at last, and free."

At no point did the road under the Tin-man's feet glow. Neither did any music pour out from the brick surface. Tin-man sat on the side of the road and placed his head in his hands.

"If you had the road's protection, would you at least consider non-lethal force?"

The Tin-man looked up. "You saw yourself, it won't..."

Thomas interrupted. "The townspeople in the village sang for me. I wonder if I couldn't sing for you?" The Tin-man shrugged, his melancholy unwavered.

"Though he's built just like a kettle,

One can hardly doubt his mettle,

And his morals are as metal,

So now matters we must settle.

Should he step upon the gold road

There's a debt that he is now owed

And a wish I wish was bestowed

Which would lighten his life and load."

The Scarecrow joined his higher voice with Thomas's lower one and they continued in harmony.

"With matters yet unsolved, impart

Your protection as we depart,

And now this journey we did start

Takes on another urgent part.

These steps we'll take to find our way

To Amethyst, the Wizard's stay.

A city bright, 'neath brighter ray,

A home, heart, mind, to find today!"

Tin-man's expression changed as the road all around them glowed and music filled the air. Thomas felt something glow from him to the Tin-man, and just as he was sure it passed to the heartless metal man, he knew what it was. He'd felt it too, in the village when the villagers sang for him. The emotions that made up the protection magic were euphoric and heady, in a good way.

The Tin-man smiled, brightly at first but then it dimmed. "Do you really think the Wizard can lift my curse?"

"If anyone can, he can," Thomas replied. "Shall we go?"


End file.
